Piano Lessons
by carryonmycastiel
Summary: Dean teaches Castiel how to play the piano. Domestic!Destiel. Excessively fluffy.


**Domestic!Destiel prompt:** _Castiel learns how to play the piano._

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><p>"Cas?" Dean stopped abruptly in the middle of the store, confusion etched onto his face as he spotted his husband standing in a rather unexpected aisle, leaning over a shelf and fiddling with something that Dean couldn't quite see from his position.<p>

Castiel didn't even look up from whatever the hell he was doing, and Dean sighed agitatedly, "_Cas._"

"Yes, Dean?"

He knew that tone of voice, the one saying that Castiel _knew _that Dean would criticize or poke fun at him if he knew what the angel was up to. There was that little innocent edge to it, one entirely too oblivious for Dean to believe, and it was for that reason that a smirk sprang to the man's lips, "'S there any particular reason you're in the middle of the little girl's _toy aisle_?"

No answer, but Castiel turned his head towards Dean's, locking eyes with the hunter and narrowing them slightly, in a silent challenge. Dean made sure no one was looking and, when he was certain that no one was, he stepped into the very narrow, very _pink_ aisle, making his way towards the spot where Castiel stood.

Seeing Dean draw nearer, Castiel began to deliberately walk away, headed down to the opposite end of the aisle, "There was no reason, I only got momentarily distracted."

"Hmm," Dean quirked an eyebrow at Cas, not buying it, and looked at the shelf that his husband had been observing. The only object there, besides a few scattered Barbie dolls and a- oh, _God_, Dean hoped Cas hadn't been looking at the Justin Bieber doll- was a kids-sized keyboard, one of those play pianos that had the light-up keys, telling you which ones to press to make a certain tune. The piano's power switch was in the 'on' position, and a key near the middle of the toy was glowing a dull red. Dean looked up at Castiel questioningly, motioning to the toy, "This? Is this what you were looking at?"

Castiel shifted uncomfortably, "I was merely curious as to how a piano works. The instructions on the back say they can teach one how to play basic tunes." He raised his chin defiantly, as if readying himself for the stream of jokes that Dean was sure to make.

They never came.

"Dean?" Confusion swept over Castiel's face, and he walked back to where the hunter stood, green eyes focused on the lit-up key that was begging to be pushed. "We can leave now, it's not important."

"Do you really want to know how to play the piano?" Dean lifted his eyes from the keys to Castiel, and the angel was surprised to see that it was a serious question.

Cas frowned slightly, "Yes, I do."

"C'mere, then."

Dean rolled his eyes when Castiel hesitated, grabbing the angel by his familiar trenchcoat- he_always_ insisted on wearing it _everywhere_- and yanking him forward until he stood in front of him, facing the small piano. Castiel cast a wary look over his shoulder at Dean, narrowing his eyes and squirming at such close proximity in a very public place.

A thrill went through Dean's body at the ideas that popped into his head, and he had to force himself to concentrate on the task at hand. It didn't help when Cas said his name impatiently, the rumble of the man's voice reverberating against Dean's chest. He sighed exasperatedly, telling himself that there'd be time for that kind of thinking later.

Grabbing Castiel's hand gently, he placed it on top of the keys, covering the smaller man's hand with his own. Dean had absolutely no idea how to play the piano- but he knew one very short, very simple tune that he'd learned way back before he dropped out of high school, taught to him by the frail old choir teacher that had been monitoring one of his many after-school detentions at a school they'd stayed at for almost three weeks.

That day always stood out to Dean- the elderly lady, wispy white hair sticking out at outrageous angles, looking calculatingly at the then-young Winchester boy, silently reprimanding him for throwing a paper airplane containing his number to a girl across the room. She'd called him to the front, pointedly ignoring his belligerent protests and mumbled expletives, and had him poke and prod at the keys on the piano until he'd learned to play the classic "Mary Had a Little Lamb." For some reason that lesson had stuck with him throughout the years, and he never could forget the movements it took to make the tune come to life.

Coming back to the present, Dean shuffled a bit closer to Castiel, getting a better grip on Cas's hand, chest pressed up against the angel's back. "Just do what I do, Cas," he murmured softly, pressing his right ring finger down on top of his husband's, ring clanging lightly against ring as they played the first note together. Castiel gave Dean a curious sideways glance, unsure of how to respond, but then nodded and turned his attention back to the keys, memorizing the notes and playing them back as Dean showed him the right tempo and order in which to perform them.

A few minutes later Castiel had it down pat, and Dean removed his hand from Castiel's, standing back slightly. He raised his eyebrows at the other man, "Go on."

Castiel nodded once, face impassive, and he plunked out the tune with careful precision, looking up expectantly at Dean when he finished. "Well?"

Dean nodded slowly, a grin spreading across his face. "You're a professional."

The angel didn't smile, but his relaxed demeanor and the triumphant gleam in his eyes told much more than a smile ever could.


End file.
